searchers after horror

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Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. – H. P. Lovecraft, The Picture in the House Tachikawa Air Force Base in Tokyo. Standing there breathless, wondering if at any moment a security guard will pop his head through the door. See more Japanese ruins (haikyo) in the galleries: [album id=4 template=compact] You can also see a curation of world ruins in the ruins gallery.

you know I love you still

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Who knows how long I’ve loved you, you know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to I will. – The Beatles Akeno Gekijo Strip Club Far too many mosquitoes in here, buzzing around and biting my arms and legs. Ugh. See more Japanese ruins (haikyo) in the galleries: [album id=4 template=compact] See world ruins in the ruins gallery.

sound in an empty house

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Leave sound in an empty house in its own room there. . . . – William Stafford Gunma Motor Lodge I stood in the room silently and wondered; are these shadows the same shadows I’ll see in five years, in ten, in fifty? Will I recognize them? Will they recognize me? See more Japanese ruins (haikyo) in the galleries: [album id=4 template=compact] You can also see a curation of world ruins in the ruins gallery.

a cloud of yellow dust flew

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In the dark room a cloud of yellow dust flew from beneath the tool like a scatter of sparks from under the hooves of a galloping horse. The twin wheels turned and hummed. Binet was smiling, his chin down, his nostrils distended. He seemed lost in the kind of happiness which, as a rule, accompanies only those mediocre occupations that tickle the intelligence with easy difficulties, and satisfy it with a sense of achievement beyond which there is nothing left for dreams to feed on. – Gustave Flaubert Heian Wedding Hall See more Japanese ruins (haikyo) in the galleries: [album …

the catacombs of Ptolemais

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For them are the catacombs of Ptolemais, and the carven mausolea of the nightmare countries. They climb to the moonlit towers of ruined Rhine castles, and falter down black cobwebbed steps beneath the scattered stones of forgotten cities in Asia. The haunted wood and the desolate mountain are their shrines, and they linger around the sinister monoliths on uninhabited islands. But the true epicure in the terrible, to whom a new thrill of unutterable ghastliness is the chief end and justification of existence, esteems most of all the ancient, lonely farmhouses of backwoods New England; for there the dark elements …

the secret of a garret-room

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Books, books, books had found the secret of a garret-room piled high with cases in my father’s name; Piled high, packed large, where, creeping in and out among the giant fossils of my past, like some small nimble mouse between the ribs of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there at this or that box, pulling through the gap, in heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, the first book first. And how I felt it beat under my pillow, in the morning’s dark. An hour before the sun would let me read! My books! – Elizabeth Barret Browning Seigoshi gold …